


Ping Pong Champion

by teennplantt



Category: The Office (US)
Genre: Bottom!Jim, M/M, Ping-Pong, Rivalry, Sex on a table, also you can't tell me dwight doesn't have a kink for jim losing to him, i'm just a big fan of jim/dwight, uhhh i shouldn't have written this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-25
Updated: 2018-05-25
Packaged: 2019-05-13 12:21:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14748776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teennplantt/pseuds/teennplantt
Summary: Jim's horrible at ping-pong, so Pam asks Dwight to help. Little does she know Dwight doesn't intend to assist Jim in getting better at ping-pong. Not when Jim is being so...distracting.





	Ping Pong Champion

**Author's Note:**

> idk i just like this pairing and op got a fat rivalry kink so when i was rewatching the office for i dunno the thousandth time, i stumbled upon this episode and it was like "why haven't i done this yet?" also sorry to anyone who's in love with jam 'cause this stomps on their love. but like don't get me wrong, jam is everything i wish i had and better

Sweat pooled in the dip of Jim's throat as he delivered the next serve. 

"Spin serve!" Jim announced proudly, and Dwight easily returned it, scoring yet another point. Jim had stopped verbally keeping score, but by his own estimate, he was down about a bajillion points. "Can we take a break?" he groaned. 

"No, breaks are for losers," Dwight scoffed. Jim bent to retrieve the ping pong ball, and Dwight bit back an appreciative whistle. "C'mon, Jim, you're never going to beat Darryl with all this break talk." 

"I don't wanna beat Darryl," Jim passed the ball to Dwight as he straightened. "I wanna take a nap." He bit his lip, staring at Dwight with pleading eyes. His hair was falling in his face, and his shirt was untucked. He was the picture of debauchery, and Dwight only wanted to bend him over the table and make it worse. 

"We can rest when you score a point on me," Dwight served the ball, and Jim allowed it to zoom past him. "You aren't even trying!" 

"Maybe I'd try harder if I wasn't so tired," Jim whined. 

"You're such a complainer," Dwight rolled his eyes. "Real men would never whine about being tired." Jim served next, and Dwight allowed him to score the point. 

"Does this mean we can take a break?" Jim asked hopefully. 

"Get over here," Dwight ordered, sparing a glance to insure the blinds were shut and the door was locked. Jim slinked around the conference turned ping pong table, and Dwight pushed him against it. 

"You liked that?" Jim smirked coyly. He ran his hand up Dwight's chest, coming to rest on his shoulder. 

"Of course I did," Dwight growled, nipping at the side of Jim's neck. Jim let out a soft moan as Dwight ran his hand under his mussed button-down. "You look good dirty." 

"Oh, God," Jim gasped, feeling Dwight's calloused palm grazing his lower stomach. He crashed their lips together before Dwight could throw him on the table. Jim let out a breathy laugh, almost surprised the table hadn't broken under the strain of his added weight. Dwight went straight for Jim's belt buckle, and the taller man pushed up into his touch. "Really? We're gonna- right here?" Jim panted in his eagerness. The feral look in Dwight's eyes only spurring him on further. The desperate need for relief and passion evident in both of their body languages. 

"Yes, and I'd prefer you over the table," Dwight pulled Jim's slacks down to his mid-thigh before Jim stood. The slacks fell to his ankles, and he turned his back to Dwight in order to bend over the table. 

"This what you had in mind?" Jim grinned smugly. 

"You'd look better without the underwear," Dwight replied. "And your wrists tied to my headboard, but we don't really have the time for that, do we?" He punctuated his rhetorical question with a firm smack to Jim's ass that caused the younger man to buck forward into the table. Jim bit his lip to prevent a moan from exposing how much he had enjoyed that. 

"Fuck, can we go home?" Jim pleaded. "As hot as it'd be to do this here, I wanna be tied up. Also I'm pretty sure neither of us has lube." 

"I'm going down to the warehouse to tell Darryl the rematch is off. I expect you to wait in my car," Dwight delivered another firm slap to Jim's ass before he fished his keys out of his pocket. He held the keys in front of Jim's face as the younger man got off the table. 

"I'll see you in five," Jim leaned in and stole a short kiss from Dwight. 

"You won't last that long," Dwight teased knowingly. He rubbed his hand up and down Jim's cock through the fabric of his boxer briefs. "You're too desperate." 

"Yeah, if you keep going, I'm really not gonna last," Jim's breath stuttered as he fought to keep his release at bay. 

"Good, I like the sound of you waiting for me in my car with shorts you dirtied, leaving the conference room with the smell of sex lingering on your skin, so everyone knows exactly what we got up to," Dwight watched as Jim's eyes screwed shut, and his mouth fell open. He canted his hips to the rhythm of Dwight's strokes, and his fingers curled in Dwight's shirt, desperately clinging to the older man. "Cum for me, Jim." Jim came undone at Dwight's command. Dwight sucked a mark into the side of his neck, purposefully aiming above the collar of his shirt. He barely held back a cry. 

"That was good, right?" Jim laughed breathlessly as he carded his fingers through his hair. "That was better than it's been in a while, wasn't it?"

"You're ruining the moment with your desperate need for approval, Halpert," Dwight meant the words in jest, but his tone was too biting. 

"I have some paperwork I can wrap up if you don't want to continue," Jim pulled up his pants, somehow still managing to play coy. 

"Shut up," Dwight shook his head fondly, leaning up to press a soft kiss to Jim's lips. "And get out." He smacked Jim's ass once more as the blond moved towards the door. Jim threw a wink over his shoulder as he carefully stepped out into the bull pen. He made a beeline for Pam's desk after grabbing his bag off the back of his chair. 

"Yeah, the rematch with Darryl is off," Jim said, attempting to at least look a little regretful. 

"What? Why?" Pam insisted. "No, Jim, you have to-"

"I have a sales call," Jim interjected. "I'll see you tomorrow, though." 

"Okay," Pam nodded, her voice quiet and defeated. "I love you." She called out as Jim grabbed his coat and headed towards the door. 

"Love you too," Jim waved as he walked out the door. He felt the familiar feeling of guilt and knowledge that he was betraying someone he cared about, but the emotions were so old, he could no longer bring himself to care. Besides, Pam wasn't an idiot, and Jim had stopped trying to hide it months ago. She knew, and she could have done something, only they both knew she wouldn't. 

Jim unlocked Dwight's car and started the engine, slipping into the passenger's seat. His fingers drummed on his knee, anxiety thrumming through his veins for no apparent reason. It wasn't like this was the first time he and Dwight had run out of the office on a "sales call." The first time had been nothing more than a quickie in the warehouse the day after Angela had broken Dwight's heart. In a twisted way, it kind of pissed him off that Dwight was only using him, but he knew he had no right to be angry. He only would've liked to feel like he meant something, but he had no right to feel that way when he cheated on Dwight and Pam simultaneously. He felt worse for cheating on Dwight, though. For not having the stones to tell Pam it was over a long time ago, that they never really had much of a chance at all. Dwight opened the door to the car, still looking fired up from earlier. 

"Hey, do you like me?" Jim asked because it occurred to him that he had no idea whether or not Dwight even considered them friends, much less anything more. "You don't have to answer that. I was just thinking...if I broke up with Pam, would you go out on a date with me?" 

"No," Dwight replied honestly. 

"Why not?" 

"Do I need another reason besides the fact that you're the office mattress?" Jim wouldn't pretend that didn't sting. 

"Then what the fuck are we doing here?" 

"Having fun," Dwight shrugged. He pulled his car out of the parking lot and onto the road. Jim stayed silent for the ride to Schrute Farms, and in all honesty, once he arrived, he wasn't much in the mood to continue what'd they'd started in the conference room. But they'd come all this way, and if Jim couldn't have what he wanted, at least he'd have sex. 

Once they were inside the house, Dwight shoved Jim against the door, holding his wrists above his head and ripping open the buttons on his shirt.

"This is taking too long," Dwight complained, releasing Jim. "Strip and go upstairs. I'll be there in a minute." Jim obeyed, piling his clothes in Dwight's kitchen before ascending the stairs to Dwight's private room. He laid down on the bed, locating the lube in Dwight's bedside table and squirted some out onto his fingers. He spread his legs in the direction of the door, so that when Dwight walked in, the invitation was obvious. He pushed a finger into his waiting hole, crying out quietly from the intrusion. 

Dwight stood in his kitchen, wondering if he should go upstairs or simply kick Jim out of his house. It was obvious the younger man was in over his head, and Dwight did consider him enough of a friend not to knowingly hurt him. He prepared his speech carefully, wanting to let Jim know that he did like him, just not in the way that Jim wanted him to. Jim was asking too much from a man who dreamt of marrying a polite, petite blonde. 

"Jim-" However, when Dwight stepped into his bedroom, he was met with the sight of Jim writhing and panting on three of his own fingers. And he couldn't fucking resist him. 

"I missed you," Jim smirked up at Dwight, but the movements of his wrist didn't stop. He really was a mess, and Dwight was helplessly attracted to that. "You just gonna stand there?" 

"I'm rather enjoying the show," Dwight sat down on the rocking chair in the corner. "Proceed." Jim's mouth fell open and a sob bubbled up from deep in his gut. He quivered, continuing to ride his own fingers. 

"Dwight," Jim moaned. "I can't. I need you, please." 

"Well, if you can't perform a simple request, that's none of my problem." 

"Dwight, please!" Dwight approached Jim, forcefully grabbing his free wrist and pinning it above his head. He bent to press a kiss to the corner of Jim's lips as he grabbed his other wrist. 

"Stay there." Jim did as he was asked, and Dwight went to his closet and grabbed one of his belts. 

"Oh, God," Jim moaned at the thought of what was to come. Dwight smacked Jim on the naked thigh with the belt, and Jim screamed. "Shit! Do that again." He reached up and fisted his hand in Dwight's lapel, bracing himself for the next, firmer slap that came to him. His bottom lip was between his teeth as he gritted out another moan. 

"You want me to stop?" Dwight asked, his face softening to display his genuine care for the man beneath him. "Jim?" 

"No, fuck, don't stop," Jim writhed against the bedsheets with need, and Dwight hit him again. Red bloomed across Jim's pale thighs, and Dwight tied his wrists to the headboard. 

"Spread your legs," Dwight kneeled on the bed, and slapped Jim's inner thigh, moving his hands up towards the younger man's entrance. Jim threw his head back against the pillows, absolutely entranced in the moment. He bucked his hips up towards Dwight, needing to be touched desperately. Dwight was babbling something, but Jim could barely hear him over the sound of his own roaring desire. Dwight ripped open his pants and yanked Jim forward. A shock of pain traveled up Jim's arms as his muscles strained, but the pain went straight to his cock, causing it to twitch. 

"Uh, Dwight," Jim groaned as he felt Dwight's cock at his hole. 

"Shut up," Dwight snapped, clapping his hand over Jim's mouth. He pushed his cock into Jim, and the blond cried out beneath him, the sound muffled by Dwight's hand. Dwight fucked into him, moving his hips almost cruelly, and Jim felt his release already fast approaching. He was unbelievably hard, unbelievably hot, and the pressure building in his gut was insurmountable. Dwight thrusting in and out of him roughly, hitting his prostate intermittently, was enough to make him feel like he was flying. He could do this forever, just let Dwight tie him down and ruin him. 

Dwight removed his hand from Jim's mouth and wrapped it around the back of his neck, pulling Jim close for a heated kiss. The friction of Dwight's stomach rubbing across Jim's fevered erection was overwhelming. The feeling of Dwight's tongue in his mouth indescribable. 

"Cum with me," Dwight pressed a wet, open-mouthed kiss to Jim's jaw. "I'm so close." He grabbed Jim's hips, forcing him down harder on his cock, and Jim came hard across Dwight's chest. 

"Oh, fuck, that was it," Jim gasped, barely able to speak. "That was the last time, Dwight. We can't keep-" Dwight continued to pound into Jim's hole until he came. "Doing this," Jim let out a sob. 

"But you're so hot," Dwight licked and kissed his way down Jim's neck to his collarbones. 

"Fuck, Dwight," Jim whined. He was spent and ridiculously sensitive. Dwight's mouth met his nipples, nipping and licking around them, marking up Jim's chest like it belonged to him. The thought made Jim hot all over. "C'mon, I'm serious. Get up." Dwight sat up, buttoning and zipping his pants. 

"Get dressed and see yourself out. I have a lot to think about," Dwight ordered coldly. 

"Like what?" Jim frowned. "Also you have to untie me." 

"What kind of man can't even escape a basic belt knot?" Dwight rolled his eyes. He released Jim, and Jim rubbed his tender skin where the leather had cut into it. 

"That was really great, Dwight," Jim cupped Dwight's cheek and kissed him sweetly. "Thank you." 

"Jim, wait," Dwight grabbed his forearm to prevent him from leaving. "I take it back. If you were to ask me on a date, I'd be delighted." 

"Oh, I think I was just...caught up in the moment," Jim laughed, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck. "I'm sorry about that, but hey, we can do this anytime you want. That was fantastic." He hurried out of Dwight's bedroom and down the stairs, dressing in the kitchen before heading out the door. 

Jim took a cab to his apartment where Mark was in the kitchen making margaritas for he and his girlfriend. Jim stepped into the apartment, and he felt out of place and still a little shaken, like nothing in his life quite fit him anymore.


End file.
